“Come. Let’s get you comfortable.” A
ndre reappears at my elbow and leads me gently to a large, white sectional sofa.
I cross my arms. “I think I’d rather stand. Why are we here? You said you wanted me to work with your social media team.”
The man must think I am really naive. He told me he wanted to work on business and then brought me to his penthouse where we’re completely alone. Nothing in the world is going to make me comfortable except perhaps a Valium or a bottle of vodka.
“Cassandra, relax. I won’t bite you. That’s not why we’re here.” Andre sits on the other end of the sofa, reclining casually into the large cushions. “I actually want to show you something personal.”
I throw my hands up. “Seriously? Again with the innuendo.”
He doubles over laughing. “That sounded bad. Although to be fair if I wanted to show you my cock I wouldn’t be nervous. I already know you like that. I want to show you something work-related.”
I let the remark about liking his dick slide. That’s a rabbit hole I refuse to jump into. “Oh. Well, what do you want to show me here.” I look around the room. Nothing is out of place so I’m not sure what he could be referring to.
He rubs his hands together. “Actually, I’m trying to get my nerve up to bring it out. I’ve never shown anyone else.”
I sit on the edge of the couch. Honestly, seeing him nervous has made me relax. He’s so calm and in control all the time that it’s a refreshing change to see him thrown off a bit. Maybe he’s actually normal like the rest of us.
“I’m not exactly a fashion queen, remember? I’m not sure why my opinion matters.”
His head lifts and his eyes spear mine. “It matters to me.” After a moment, he stands and then disappears down a hallway across from the room we’re in. He comes back a few minutes later carrying a mannequin. He sets it carefully in the middle of the floor and I come to stand next to him. The mannequin is dressed in a pair of trousers that look like a cross between cargo pants and dress pants.
Andre runs a hand over the fabric. “The material is a combination of nylon and merino wool. It’s comfortable and light but durable enough for hiking. It will wick away moisture quickly and breathes well. But they look more like a pair of dress pants than the typical hiking gear.”
I reach out to touch the material, careful to avoid the pins sticking out of all the seams. “Wow. So it’s active wear but looks more like high fashion wear.”
His eyes sparkle at the description. “This is it, exactly. Clothes that are about more than what they look like. People have this image of who I am, cool, urbane and aloof. Lavin style has always reflected that.”
“You don’t think that’s an accurate representation?” From what I saw on his Instagram feed, his style is very similar to what he’s been wearing the past few days. Perfectly tailored suits that he wears so effortlessly they might as well be jeans.
“It’s not that it’s inaccurate. Just incomplete. I’m more than just that. I enjoy hiking, biking, running and swimming. That’s what I want to create, clothes for men that allow them to look good while truly living.“
“Sounds pretty brilliant to me.”
He doesn’t say anything but his lips turn up at the corners. “I assure you it’s considered sacrilege in some circles.”
“Well, those circles don’t sound like the ones I would want to be in. Do you have anything else?”
He holds up a finger and then disappears down the hallway again. When he comes back carrying another mannequin, I have to hold in a snort of laughter. This one is wearing a coat so puffy that I can barely see his face.
“What are you laughing at?”
“You look like the Abominable Coat Man carrying that thing.”
“The panels are meant for winter weather so each one is triple-filled. It’s also designed to zip completely closed so it can double as a sleeping bag.”
I look closer and notice the extra zipper across the bottom. Suddenly I remember that he told me about this two months ago. The rush of warmth at the memory is unexpected. Apparently everything he told me wasn’t a lie.
The thought brings me more comfort than it should. Since we’re supposed to be just friends and all.
“This is what you mentioned that night. Making clothes that can help the less fortunate.”
He looks shocked. “Yes. It was only a vague idea at the time but after that night, I decided to make a sample. I figured if I could come up with a design that could make use of some of the scraps from our production process, then it would help someone while also recycling at the same time.”
I watch as he tugs at the panels on the coat. “What happened? If you made a sample, why aren’t these coats being produced.”
“Because the Board of Directors shot it down. They didn’t want Lavin fabric being used on something that was being given away. They worry about it devaluing the brand.”